


A Little AI-ssistance

by olympvs



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, Jarvis as a wingman, M/M, Steve being very flustered and nervous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-08 15:43:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15246552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olympvs/pseuds/olympvs
Summary: When Steve realizes he's in love with his best friend, he's at a loss for what to do. In a fit of panic Steve asks Jarvis for help, and thus ensues a series of not-quite-dates as Steve struggles to tell Tony how he feels.





	A Little AI-ssistance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redvelvetcake32](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redvelvetcake32/gifts).



> This fic was written for redvelvetcake32, as part of Stony Loves Steve 2018! Her prompt was "Steve is interested in Tony but isn't sure how to ask him on a date. Cue Stevey asking Jarvis on what Tony likes and what ensues is a series of hijinks in which Jarvis and Steve work together to get Steve and Tony on a date." She also suggested Steve bonding with Tony via private baking lessons, so I worked that in as well. 
> 
> This prompt absolutely killed me with how cute and perfect it was, and I had a blast filling it! I really hope you like it <3

The moment Steve realized he was in love with Tony was, by all accounts, rather ordinary. 

Tony was in the kitchen with Natasha, arguing with her as she held a pan away from him and kept an omelette safe from Tony’s reach. He argued that he was a fine chef, despite the fact that the whole team knew that nine out of ten times if Tony was in the kitchen, an alarm inevitably would go off. Natasha said something back to him in a low voice that Steve didn’t quite catch, but whatever it was caught Tony totally off guard, and then he burst into laughter. It was nothing loud and boisterous – just a few shakes of his shoulders that left him with crinkled eyes and a wide smile. The sound rang through the kitchen and Steve was struck with clarity all at once – he was in love with this man.

The realization punched an odd noise out of Steve, and Tony and Nat both looked over at him.

“Alright there, Cap?” Tony asked, mouth still upturned in a grin.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve said, waving them off. “Just remembered something I have to do.” 

He got up from the table and walked towards his room, the moment already forgotten as Tony and Natasha returned to their squabble. 

Once the door was locked and Steve was in the safety of his bedroom, he put his head in his hands. What on earth was he going to do? 

It’s not like Steve didn’t know how close he was to Tony. All the Avengers got along, of course -- there’s something about facing life-threatening challenges on a routine basis and continually defying the odds that tends to bring people together. And once everyone had moved into Avengers Tower, they truly did become like a family. But things with Tony were… different. 

In some ways, Steve had his biggest blowouts with Tony. The tiniest thing would set them off, and then they were in each other’s faces, trading jabs and insults, anything to worm under the other’s skin. It was hardly ever full-on yelling, but rather anger that swirled hot and quick to the surface, only to leave Steve feeling shame-faced as soon as he cooled down. He knew Tony felt badly about it too, would try to make it up to Steve in a uniquely-Tony way. Steve would find new pastels tucked against the side of his easel in what had come to be his art room, or the fridge would be stocked up with Steve’s favorite raspberry-lemonade, which he knew Tony hated. 

But it wasn’t those little gestures that made Steve feels close to Tony. For all that they butted heads, there was something enigmatic about the man that Steve couldn’t help but be drawn to. When they weren’t arguing, Steve found they actually got along quite well. 

It started, oddly enough, on the battlefield. Tony usually couldn’t follow an order if his life depended on it - which it frequently did - something that was normally endlessly frustrating to Steve. And yet, somehow they flowed seamlessly together when they were out fighting back to back. With just a simple movement from Tony, Steve would know to turn his shield, Tony’s repulsor beam reflecting perfectly off it to take down an enemy. Steve would lift one hand in the air and there Tony was, swooping down to carry him and drop him in a better position. They moved together as naturally as they breathed, and over time that kinship began to melt into their daily life. 

Steve would forget that Tony didn’t like to be touched, but instead of shrugging off Steve’s friendly clap to his shoulder it almost seemed like Tony would lean into it. Tony once found Steve looking through his notebook of what he still had to catch up on in the 21st century and immediately gave a long, and rather heated, list of what Steve absolutely had to see/do/etc. When Steve found himself in the kitchen or the gym or some other odd part of the tower at 3 am, unable to sleep, it was always Tony who kept him company. Tony, who would pass by the clear glass walls of the gym on his way out of the workshop and see Steve furiously working at a punching bag. Tony, who would gently grab his shoulders, give him a “maybe it’s time to take a break, Cap”, and guide him towards the living room. Who got him a mug of tea and sat with Steve on the couch, a romcom or something otherwise mind-numbing playing on the T.V. as he waited for his nerves to settle, for sleep to finally come. 

So they were friends, definitely. Steve knew that. Who cared if Bucky constantly called him out for making “disgusting sap eyes” at Tony? What did Sam know when he pointed out that Tony wasn’t as friendly with anyone as he was with Steve? They were just trying to poke fun at Steve, just trying to tease him and stir up something that wasn’t there. Steve and Tony were good friends, and that was that.

Or at least Steve thought that was the case, but apparently this morning proved otherwise. 

“Captain Rogers?” 

A voice startled Steve out of his spiralling. 

“Huh?” Steve said, looking towards the ceiling. He knew that Jarvis wasn’t actually installed up there, knew that Tony had told him dozens of times over there was nowhere to “direct” his speech to Jarvis, but it was a habit he couldn’t shake. 

“My sensors are picking up an unusually elevated heart rate for your current state of being. Do you require medical assistance?” 

Instinctively Steve pressed his fingers to the side of his throat, feeling his pulse hum. Jarvis was right; it was too fast. He shook his head before realizing he should give Jarvis an audible response.

“No I’m okay, thank you. No need to alert anyone.” 

The last thing Steve needed was Tony bursting in here to check up on him, only for Steve to have to explain no, he’s fine, he was just having a minor panic attack over the fact that he was apparently in love with his best friend. 

Then, a thought occurred to Steve. Who knew Tony better than the very AI he built? Jarvis had arguably seen more of Tony than anyone else, knew his creator like no other. Had seen Tony’s track record with relationships, had seen Steve’s as well - neither were very pretty. Jarvis would recognize that it was obviously a very bad idea for Steve to pursue his romantic feelings, run all the statistics about the various outcomes of their potential relationship, and tell Steve to abandon course. He would talk Steve through all the reasons why it would be better for them both if they remained friends, and then Steve could work on moving past his feelings. That was the logical thing to do. 

Steve opened his mouth to say as such, to ask Jarvis to -- what, set him up for failure? He wasn’t even sure what he was intending to say, but what came out of his mouth regardless was “Jarvis, how do I get To -- someone to go out on a date with me?” He chickened out at the last second, unable to fully clue the AI in to his feelings, lest Jarvis go and spill the news to Tony himself. 

There was a pause from Jarvis that felt like it lasted hours to Steve, but when the AI spoke his voice was as calm and unruffled as always. 

“I’ve done a search and come back with approximately one billion google results. Would you like me to filter them by most credible sources?” 

Steve scrubbed a hand through the back of his hair. “One billion,” he repeated glumly. 

“Perhaps I could be more effective if I had further information about the person you are trying to pursue?” Jarvis offered helpfully. 

Steve blew out a breath. This was dumb. He shouldn’t be asking Tony’s own AI for pickup advice about, well, Tony. But he wasn’t sure where else to turn to. He couldn’t tell any of his friends - not because he was afraid of the “I told you so’s”, but because he didn’t want to risk any word getting back to Tony. Obviously. He was also still half-convinced that this was a horrible idea, and wasn’t quite ready to hear what somebody else had to say about it.

No, if Steve was going to do this, if he was actually going to properly try to ask Tony on a date, better to do it himself. He could form a plan, strategize - he was good at that. He’d use Jarvis’ help to gather as much data as he could, go in with a clear and rational head, and… hope for the best, he supposed. 

“Uh, sure,” Steve said to Jarvis, still vaguely looking upwards. “It’s -- well it’s a guy, to start. And he’s smart. Brilliant, actually. He cares a lot about others, even though he doesn’t always recognize that himself. Selfless to a fault, though also not something he chooses to recognize. He’s… busy, a lot of the time. Works really hard, like the rest -- uh, yeah, he works a lot. But he’ll always put others needs before his own, will always put aside his own personal projects if there’s something he can do for a friend.” 

“And your connection to him?” Jarvis prodded. “Knowing how the two of you already interact may perhaps be more beneficial to my search than hearing about the traits you admire.” 

Steve felt a flush rise high on his cheeks, and could swear there was something amused or teasing in Jarvis’ tone, though it was always hard to tell. Somehow Jarvis had the ability to infuse emotion in his words while also always remaining professional and neutral-sounding. 

“Right, of course; we’re friends. Best friends, even. We spend a lot of time together.” 

By this point Steve was sure Jarvis had put together the clues as to who Steve was talking about, but Steve was going to hold onto his last shred of dignity by pretending that Jarvis didn’t. 

“I am refining my search,” Jarvis informed him. “Do you have any indication as to if this person may also reciprocate your feelings?” 

Steve’s lip twisted, and he looked down at his hands. “I don’t know,” he said softly. “Probably not, but I’m not sure.” 

There’s another stretch of silence from Jarvis as he appears to take in all the data before getting back to Steve. 

“It seems what would be best is to start with something that isn’t too unusual from your normal routines. Something that will bring the two of you closer together, but also allow you the ability to gain insight into their level of interest. By keeping it within familiar boundaries, it increases the comfort level for both sides.” 

“So you’re saying to keep going as we are right now?” Steve asked, confused. 

“You should most certainly plan an activity, but given that you are already friends it should be nothing extravagant.” A slight pause, and then, “There are studies that show that people who go on dates in situations of high adrenaline lead to greater attraction between the two parties. Sexual arousal is triggered in the brain by the same receptors that deal with a heightened sense of adrenaline, and thus something with physical activity can make your date more receptive to you.” 

Steve nodded, determined this time. “Familiar, but also active. Got it.” After a beat he smiled, sheepish. “Thanks, Jarvis.” 

“Happy to be of assistance, Captain Rogers.” 

* 

It took a week for Steve to work up the courage to say something, but he managed to snag Tony as the other man was coming back from a meeting with SI. 

“They’re idiots, Pep!” Tony was arguing into his phone. There was a beat, and his scowl deepend. “Yes, I told them I ran the numbers, and moving the stocks is _clearly_ the better business choice. I even ran through the data with words so simple a baby could understand it.” 

Tony rolled his eyes, and Steve was sure Pepper’s response was something along the lines of “not all of us built their first circuit board at four years old.” 

Pepper said something else, and Tony’s voice softened. “Of course I trust you. Uh huh. Yeah. Thank you Pep, you’re the best, I owe you a million.” 

As soon as the phone call was done Tony threw himself into a nearby chair with a dramatic groan, flopping an arm over his face.

“Have fun at your board meeting?” Steve asked, amused. 

“Ugh,” Tony groaned again. “If I didn’t know that Pepper would nag my ear off about injunctions and the importance of “actually showing your face once in a while, Tony”, I wouldn’t bother with them at all. I mean, what is the point of having multiple PhDs if no one will listen to you!” 

Steve hummed in sympathy. “How ‘bout I help you take your mind off things?” 

Tony peered at him from under his arm, grin lecherous. “You could take more than a few things off me, if you’d like.” 

As far as pick-up lines went, it certainly wasn’t Tony’s best. Nor was it the first time Tony had hit on him - Tony flirted with people like he breathed. But it was the first time he had done so since Steve’s revelation, and he couldn’t entirely keep a blush from rising to his face. 

“Why don’t we go spar?” Steve said in lieu of response. “You can work out your anger, and get some good practice in.” 

Tony eyed him for a moment before hopping up from the chair. “Always worried about my health, Rogers,” he said, but he was smiling. “But alright, I’m game. Meet you at the gym in ten.” 

Steve was stretching on the mat when Tony walked in, wearing a loose-fitting white tank top and athletic pants that honestly should’ve been illegal. Were pants supposed to be that tight around someone’s ass? They hugged the curve of Tony’s hips, outlined strong thighs before becoming slightly looser towards the knee. Even the tank top was an affront - though not tight to his skin, it did nothing to hide the build of Tony’s biceps. Steve knew that when people thought “muscle”, they thought of him, or Thor. But Tony defined strength in an entirely different way; wiry biceps that gave way to corded muscle, usually hidden under fancy suits and silk shirts but always present. The kind of lean strength that came with active physical work, from building in his workshop and constantly maneuvering the suit. Steve was sweating, and they hadn’t even begun. 

He continued to stretch, being sure to tilt his ass slightly in Tony’s direction. If he let the bottom of his shirt ruck up to expose a bit of skin, who could blame him. However, leaning down as he was, he was unable to catch Tony’s expression, and by the time he straightened up Tony wasn’t looking at him at all, instead studiously pulling on his boxing gloves. Steve bit down on the feeling of disappointment, gesturing for Tony to join him in the ring. 

He let Tony go through his warm-ups as well before the two squared off. 

“Don’t hold back on me,” Tony joked. It was was he always said. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Steve quipped back, a familiar response. 

It was absurd, of course. They both knew that Tony fighting Steve at full power in direct hand-to-hand combat without the suit was suicidal. However, holding back didn’t mean he had to make things _easy_ for Tony. 

They began to circle one another, slow steps as they felt one another out. Sometimes Tony tried to catch him off guard by lashing out first, something quick before they could settle into the motions. Other times Tony liked to wait him out, and this seemed like the latter. Steve feinted with a short jab, which Tony easily avoided. They continued to move around each other before Tony rapidly stepped inwards, throwing a quick punch to Steve’s midsection while also jabbing at his shoulder. 

Steve managed to step backwards but the jab still caught him, throwing him off balance. Tony tried to use that to his advantage, swinging at Steve a few more times and pushing him towards the ropes, but Steve found his footing, punching back. Tony just barely managed to get out of the way, and then it was Steve who was pressing upon Tony. They went back and forth trading light jabs and punches, neither of them managing to gain the advantage. Tony was beginning to breathe heavily, and Steve could feel sweat dripping from his hairline down the side of his face. They were locked in a stalemate, both trying to find a weakness in the other, and then Tony slipped up. 

He was caught with a direct punch to the chest and let out a wheeze, winded. Steve turned his torso to follow up with another hit, only for Tony to grab at his arm. Surprised, Steve let Tony carry his weight, stumbling forward a few steps. Steve turned rapidly, blocking a punch from Tony, and used Tony’s momentum to hook an ankle around Tony’s bringing him to the ground. In a flash Steve was on top of him, legs locked around Tony’s, one hand pinning Tony’s right arm above him with the other was planted firmly by Tony’s shoulder. 

Tony wriggled for a moment, attempting to jab Steve in the ribs or get his arm free, but it was of no use. Steve squeezed his thighs a little tighter around Tony’s, keeping him in place. The arm keeping Steve upright was bent, and he was barely a foot from Tony’s face. Tony looked up at him, wide-eyed, suddenly still. His eyes flickered downwards, to Steve’s… lips? before coming back up to meet Steve’s gaze. He pulled up a grin, but something about it seemed off. 

“Okay, okay, I give.” 

The moment Steve released his arm Tony was pushing lightly at Steve’s shoulders, rolling out from underneath him when Steve let him up. He turned slightly away from Steve as he stood up, pulling at the straps on his boxing gloves. 

Steve removed his own gloves, and then laid a hand on Tony’s shoulder. Tony jolted slightly, but Steve just gave him a reassuring smile. “Hey, good job. I’m serious,” he added, when all Tony did was snort and roll his eyes. 

“Sure. Maybe one of these days I’ll actually be able to get you back.” 

He slid out from underneath Steve’s hand, but before Steve could let that get to him, Tony headed towards the towels. Right, of course. He wasn’t avoiding Steve’s touch or anything, he just wanted to wipe the sweat from his face. 

“So, I was thinking about a quick shower, and then grabbing some food,” Steve said, wishing to all hell that his voice didn’t sound so tight and nervous. “Would you want to join me?” 

“Wish I could Cap,” Tony said without meeting his eyes, “But I should do something productive with all this energy. Think I’m gonna head over to the workshop and get started on a prototype for a new Stark phone to get the board off my back.” 

“Oh, okay,” Steve said, swallowing thickly. “No problem.” 

“But thanks for the distraction,” Tony said, finally shooting him a smile. “It was a big help.” 

“Happy to,” Steve said, still not sure his voice was coming out even. 

And with a jaunty wave in Steve’s direction, Tony was gone. 

*  
A week later Steve was lying face-first on his bed, groaning. At team practice today Clint made a comment about how Tony and Steve “worked together like an old married couple”, probably because they were bickering even as Tony smoothly flew around Steve’s shield, never missing a beat. Clint made comments about them all the time, but it never seemed to get to Steve’s head before. Now, he was hyper-aware of everything he said around Tony, and everything that other people were saying about _them_. 

Tony had shot back a “shut it, Barton,” which wasn’t really out of the norm for him, but was there perhaps a bit more venom to his voice than normal? Steve had thought their sparring session was fine - sure, they didn’t actually hang out after, so Steve really couldn’t call it a date, but it hadn’t seemed like anything had changed between them either. But maybe Steve wasn’t picking up on something, maybe Tony somehow knew about Steve’s intentions and was made uncomfortable by it.

“How is your dating situation going, Captain Rogers?” Jarvis’s voice filtered into his room. 

Steve let out a muffled noise of discontent, and then rolled onto his back. 

“It’s not,” he said ruefully. 

“Did the physical date not work out?” Jarvis asked, and did Steve detect a hint of laughter in his tone? 

“Not as such,” Steve said, letting out a gusty sigh but not elaborating either. He still wasn’t entirely sure whether Jarvis knew he was trying to woo his creator or not. 

“Perhaps you need to try a different approach,” Jarvis said. 

“I don’t know if it’s worth it. I really don’t think he’s into me.” 

“Did he say that to you? Or do anything to indicate a change in his feelings?” 

“No, not exactly…” 

“Then I presume we are still working off the same data set you provided me with previously.” 

“I suppose,” Steve said doubtfully. 

“If physical activity didn’t produce the desired result, perhaps you should try something at a different pace. Something that will allow the two of you to talk, in a more intimate setting. Going out for dinner, perhaps? That is a fairly standard date, according to an article I found entitled ‘10 Classic Dates That Are Guaranteed To Catch Their Attention’.” 

Steve mulled it over. “Okay,” he said. After all, he had tried to ask Tony to food after sparring. How much harder could it be to ask him on a proper dinner date? “I can do that.” 

Of course, as with most things in Steve’s life, nothing ever quite went as planned. 

The very next day after that conversation, Steve found Tony in the kitchen, yelling at Jarvis because “I know Natasha told you not to let me use the oven, and that is bullshit. I own this tower - I _built_ you, why are you listening to her?” 

Steve couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, and Tony whirled around, eyes narrowed. 

“You know, if you actually learned how to use anything in here apart from the coffee maker, maybe Natasha wouldn’t lock you out of your own appliances.” 

“What are you talking about, I’m a fantastic cook.” 

Steve raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Okay, perhaps I might, sometimes, on _occasion_ , get overzealous with my ideas and lead to teensie-tiny accidents. Or grease fires. You know, whatever.” He waved a hand in the air, as though the term ‘grease fire’ was equivalent to knocking over a carton of milk. 

“You know, I could teach you how to cook.” 

The words were out of Steve’s mouth before he could think about them. He wanted to wince - this is not exactly what Jarvis meant by taking Tony out for food. Sure, cooking meals together could be romantic, but that was usually something couples did after they had already gotten together. 

But Tony’s mouth had already opened in surprise before pulling up into a genuine smile, and Steve knew he couldn’t take it back. 

“Yeah?” 

“Sure,” Steve said, filling his voice with enthusiasm. “Kitchen’s usually pretty well-stocked, we could make something now?” 

Tony nodded, something soft and unreadable in his expression. “Sounds good to me.” 

Steve pulled a cookbook down from a cabinet and began flipping through it. 

“Alright, what do you want to make. Chicken is usually a good basic, hard to mess up although you can overcook it and leave it a little dry. I think we’ve got a few different kinds of meats in the freezer --” 

“Cupcakes,” Tony interrupted. 

“What?”

“I want to make cupcakes.” 

“Tony, that’s not a meal,” Steve said, and his eyebrows pulled down reprimandingly before he could help himself. 

“Come on, Steve,” Tony said, a slight whine entering his voice. God, that shouldn’t be as endearing as it was. “If I’m going to be learning, it might as well be something fun.” Tony drew out the “r” in “learning”, resting his hip against the counter and looking up at Steve with wide, too-innocent eyes. 

It was a combination of the puppy-dog face and the fact that Tony actually used his name that caused Steve to crumble. 

“You and your incorrigible sweet tooth,” he muttered, but he was already flipping to the “desserts” section of the cookbook. 

“I knew there was a reason you were my favorite,” Tony said teasingly, leaning into Steve’s space. 

Steve sucked in a breath, fingers stuttering across the page. He didn’t know how to respond, so he pointed to the recipe instead. 

“Here, why don’t you help me gather ingredients?” 

Steve took a step backwards, towards the cabinet, suddenly needing to put space between himself and Tony. It was ridiculous, he knew -- the whole point of this was to show Tony his feelings, to see if Tony might be interested in him back. He should be playing into the banter, leaning towards Tony’s body as well, flirting back. 

But Steve was suddenly overwhelmed, nervous by the impromptu “date” and so, so afraid of messing something up. Something flicked across Tony’s expression, too quick for Steve to decipher, and then he looked sheepish. 

“I, ah, don’t actually know where most of these things are.” 

“Of course you don’t,” Steve said with an eye-roll, but his voice was fond. “Why don’t you just sit there,” he said, indicating a stool at the kitchen counter. 

“And look pretty?” Tony quipped. 

Steve’s heart beat too quickly in his chest. “Yeah, and look pretty,” he managed to say. 

Tony smiled at him, bright and brilliant, and Steve’s heart seemed to stop altogether. 

“Go ahead, dazzle me with your superior baking skills, Captain.” 

Cooking with Tony turned out to be surprisingly non-stressful. Once Steve had gotten over his this-was-not-the-plan feelings, it became quite fun. Tony, predictably, could barely sit still, and the moment Steve had all the ingredients out he was up and leaning over Steve’s shoulder, talking about how he couldn’t trust Steve to make the perfect cupcakes alone. 

At some point Jarvis put music on softly in the background -- he definitely knew, that conniving AI -- and the two twirled around the kitchen as easily as they did on the field. Of course, Tony was bad at taking direction no matter what the situation, and Steve had to repeatedly remind him that no, Tony, just because you _think_ you know better than the recipe book doesn’t mean you actually do. 

“Baking is all about being precise,” Steve said as he carefully beat the eggs into the mixture, one at a time. “With cooking you can be a little more lax, but with baking everything has to be down to the exact measurement.” 

“Where’s the fun in that,” Tony grumbled. “Remind me why we aren’t cooking again?” 

“Because _somebody_ wanted cupcakes,” Steve said, reaching over to poke Tony in the nose. 

Tony spluttered, wiping flour off his face before narrowing his eyes at Steve. 

“Don’t you dare--” Steve warned, but it was too late. Tony reached around him to drag a finger through the batter before smearing the mixture down the side of Steve’s face. 

“Gross, Tony!” Steve said, but he was laughing. 

“My fingers are perfectly clean, thank you very much,” Tony said, and then proceeded to stick said digit in his mouth, licking off the excess batter. 

Steve’s eyes tracked every movement of Tony’s tongue, his grip on the mixing bowl suddenly so tight that he bent the metal.  
Tony pulled his finger out with a _pop!_ , waggling it in Steve’s direction. 

“See?” he said, and there was the glint of a challenge in his eyes. Challenging what, Steve didn’t know, but he wouldn’t find out because at that moment Clint and Sam came walking past. 

“Ooh, what are you making?” Clint asked, peering over the counter to look into Steve’s bowl. 

“Cupcakes,” Steve said, perhaps a little too curtly because Clint pulled back. Steve’s eyes were still locked on Tony’s, suspended in a moment of… _something_. Of anticipation, perhaps. 

And then Tony was turning towards Clint, and the moment was lost. 

“They’re not for you, Barton.” 

“Hey, what’s on your cheek?” Sam asked, ignoring Clint’s protests. 

“Oh,” Steve said, bringing the back of his hand up to swipe at the batter he had forgotten was there. “Tony,” he said, by way of explanation. 

“Here,” Steve said, holding the bowl towards Clint. “If you’re going to eat some of these -- and I know you will -- you might as well do something too. Pour the batter into the cups, why don’t you.” 

Sam was looking at Steve, assessing him Steve was sure, and Steve refused to meet his gaze. He didn’t want to know what Sam thought, especially since he had no idea where that moment was going with Tony. What Tony was expecting from him -- what Tony _wanted_ from him. 

Steve forced a smile on his face and kept himself busy while the others proceeded to “help”, but couldn’t help the simmering frustration that lingered all night. 

* 

“Any progress, Captain?” Jarvis asked. 

Two weeks had gone by and it seemed like every time Steve had finally worked up the courage to ask Tony on a proper date, one thing or another got in the way. It was fraying on Steve’s nerves, given that he still wasn’t totally sure Tony was even interested. 

“We keep being interrupted,” Steve said, and at this point he was sure Jarvis had cottoned on to who exactly Steve was talking about, but Steve still couldn’t bring himself to talk about Tony directly. 

“A change of scenery might aid things.”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked, cocking his head and then feeling ridiculous as he wasn’t actually speaking to anyone he could see. 

“If you keep being disturbed by others, it might be prudent to set a date somewhere that you can assure will be just the two of you. Somewhere away from where your normal activities happen. Somewhere intimate.” 

Steve resolutely did _not_ let himself blush at an AI saying the word “intimate”. 

“Might I suggest you be direct, as well?” Jarvis added. “I think it would be wise to be clear about your intentions.” 

Steve merely sighed. 

“I would encourage you not to give up, Captain Rogers,” and Jarvis’s voice was impossibly soft. “I think it will be worth your while.” 

Steve took a deep breath. He had been to war, numerous times. He had faced down impossible foes from beyond Earth’s reach. He could do this; he could ask Tony on one simple date. 

“If this doesn’t work, Jarvis, I’m blaming it on you.” 

“I’m always looking to improve,” Jarvis replied. 

Steve checked his phone. It was late afternoon, a few hours still until sunset.

“Jarvis?” Steve asked. 

“Yes, Captain?” 

Steve took another steadying breath. “Where might I find Tony right now?” 

“In his workshop,” Jarvis said, and Steve was positive that if Jarvis had a face, he would be smiling. 

Before he could allow himself to wallow in doubt and talk himself out of it, Steve grabbed a jacket and headed down to Tony. 

Jarvis let him into the lab without a problem, turning down Tony’s music unprompted. 

“Jarvis, what gives?” Tony complained, before catching sight of Steve. 

“Steve!” Tony said happily, and god Steve’s heart ached. Tony had a smear of grease on the underside of his chin, his hair was slightly damp and beginning to curl towards his forward, and Steve thought he had never looked more perfect. 

“Are you busy?” Steve asked, and then mentally kicked himself. Of course Tony was busy; he was always working. Steve had said as much to Jarvis when this whole thing started. “I mean, busier than normal,” he said, trying to take his foot out of his mouth.

“I’ve always got time for you,” Tony said, and his tone was light but there was still something too honest in the response. 

Steve swallowed. “I was thinking about getting out of the tower for a bit, needed some fresh air. I’d love some company.” 

Steve knew Jarvis had told him to be direct, but Steve couldn’t quite bring himself to outright ask Tony on a date. Besides, he was sure Tony would get the impression once they got to where Steve was thinking of. If he agreed to come, of course. 

Tony looked surprise, but after a moment he smiled. “Sure thing, Cap. Let me just finish up something real quick.” 

Steve nodded quickly, sitting down on a familiar couch. In just thirty minutes -- much shorter than Steve was expecting, if he was honest -- Tony wiped an arm across his forehead and set down his welding tools. 

“Okay, I think that’s good. Give me a moment to make sure I don’t smell like motor oil? I can meet you in the lobby.” 

“Meet me in the garage, actually,” Steve said. “And bring a jacket.” 

“Can do,” Tony said, and Steve’s heart nearly thumped out of his chest. 

Steve was leaning up against his motorcycle when Tony came down. He held out the extra helmet towards the other man. 

“Alright if we take the bike? It’s been a while.” 

“Absolutely,” Tony grinned. “I’ve been dying for you to take me on this thing.” He froze for a moment, like he hadn’t meant to say that, but Steve gave him a reassuring smile. 

“Perfect.” 

“Want to tell me where we’re going? Or are we just driving around.”

Steve shook his head. “I have a destination in mind, but you’ll see when you get there.” He held up a hand before Tony could grumble about it. “It’ll be worth it, I promise.” 

“If you insist,” Tony said, grabbing the proffered helmet and swinging himself onto the bike behind Steve. He leaned forward, chest just barely grazing Steve’s back, and wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist. Steve only hoped Tony couldn’t feel how his gut was churning. 

They shot out of the garage, Tony whooping with glee. Steve grinned. For all that his nerves were making him antsy, it was impossible not to feel confident on his bike. He knew it like he knew his shield - intimately, every inch of metal purring under his expert guidance. He rode the way he knew Tony would like it; fast, hugging corners as they leaned towards the ground, zipping between cars at a speed above the limit, but without a care in the world. He knew Tony would trust him to keep them both safe, and it pushed him to show off a little. They zipped down, past Manhattan, heading over a familiar bridge. He was sure Tony had a general idea of where they were going now, but Steve had a particular destination in mind. 

He wove through the narrow streets of Brooklyn, slower now, taking his time. They meandered past the streets that were at once full of familiarity and yet foreign all the same. Steve wound his way towards the water, pulling the bike onto a secluded street. He turned it off, kicking the stand out. He took both their helmets and stashed them while Tony looked around, hands shoved in his pocket in what Steve knew to be a nervous tic. 

“Taking a trip down memory lane?” 

“Sort of,” Steve replied. He gestured towards a walkway at the end of the road. “Bit of something old, bit of something new,” he said, shooting Tony a nervous smile. 

Tony fell into step next to him as Steve led them to a path that traced the Hudson river. When Steve first woke up in the 21st century, the differences were overwhelming. He came to Brooklyn hoping to reorient himself, only to find the changes even more disorienting. He could feel his control slipping, panic threatening to spiral and overwhelm him. And then he found the Promenade. The Promenade was actually built after the war, but it only took the place of broken streets he already knew. It was a path that followed the Hudson, was nicer than anything Steve had in his day. Looking out over the water, the Brooklyn Bridge framed by New York City behind it, it was easy to let his gaze go hazy, to imagine he was back in the 30’s, before the war. Before all of it. 

But Steve wasn’t here to reminisce on the past. Steve wasn’t here to think about all that he had lost, all the ways that things had changed. Steve was here to remember why it was worth it, living in the 21st century. To remember the things that were important to him. 

For a while they walked in silence. It was early summer, just warm enough that a light jacket kept them both comfortable, but not overly crowded out on the Promenade. Steve had timed it perfectly; the sun was just beginning to set, casting rose and orange hues across the water. 

They stopped at a little turn-in, the Brooklyn Bridge shimmering in the light. The soft shadow it cast, along with the setting sun made everything feel a touch unreal. Made Steve feel like it was okay, in this moment, if he bared his soul. That everything somehow would be alright. 

He leaned against the railing, looking out at the water. Tony came up next to him, hands fidgeting restlessly. 

“Got something on your mind?” he asked, and Steve could hear a waver of uncertainty in Tony’s voice. Somehow, it helped settle Steve. 

“Tony, I have something I need to tell you,” Steve said. His hands clenched around the railing before he forced himself to relax, turning to face the other man. 

In the light, Tony looked absolutely radiant. His skin was gold and glowing, his brown eyes warm and reflective. Despite the shower he had taken he still had a slight smudge of grease on his face. He looked so gorgeous he was like a work of art, and for a fleeting moment all Steve could think of was that this was the face he wanted to look at for the rest of his life. 

“Usually when people start with that phrase, it means there’s bad news coming,” Tony tried to joke, but his nervousness was clear. 

“Nothing bad,” Steve said with a soft smile. “At least, I hope.” 

He took a deep breath. “Tony, you’re my best friend. You’ve been a constant companion by my side, you’ve been my rock since I woke up. You’ve helped me through -- well, everything. You mean the world to me. And I -- I have feelings for you. Strong ones. More than friendship, I mean. And I understand if you don’t feel the same way, but I’m really hoping that’s not the case. I’m hoping that maybe -- maybe you feel the same way. About me. And that you might also, uh, be interested in something more.” 

Steve was aware he was rambling, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. He cut himself off, embarrassed. Tony was staring at him, wide-eyed, and if he didn’t speak in the next three seconds Steve was going to find the nearest hole and bury himself in it forever. 

“I-” Tony’s throat worked, sound not coming out. He shook his head slightly, and Steve’s stomach dropped. Then Tony looked up at him, a grin splitting across his face. “You’re something else, you know that Steve?” 

“What?” Steve blinked in confusion. 

“I thought you were taking me all the way out here because you were going to tell me that you noticed I was absolutely, ridiculously, head-over-heels in love with you, and it was making you uncomfortable. I thought you were going to let me down easy.” 

Steve spluttered. “What gave you that idea?” 

“You were being -- confusing!” Tony said, throwing his hands up. “I would think maybe you were interested in me, but you never actually made a move. And there was a moment, when we were in the kitchen baking cupcakes -- but then nothing ever came of it, and I thought maybe you had reconsidered. That you had been interested but changed your mind.” 

Steve stared at Tony and then laughed, relief and hope and warmth flooding through him. He took a step closer to Tony, placing a hand gently on his waist. 

“I was just trying to find the right way to tell you that I'm also absolutely, ridiculously, head-over-heels in love with _you_.” 

It was the right thing to say. Tony leaned into his touch, his face earnest. 

“Really?” Tony breathed. 

“Really,” Steve confirmed. “Actually, I was going to start smaller than grand declarations of love. Probably ask you on a proper date first.” 

Tony laughed, leaned even closer. Tilted his face up towards Steve. 

“Yeah, sorry about that. I never can do things properly.” He didn’t sound very apologetic. 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Steve murmured, and then he closed the distance between them. 

Kissing Tony was glorious; there was no other word for it. His lips were soft but insistent against Steve’s, nipping at Steve’s bottom lip before soothing it with another kiss, working against his mouth. Tony wrapped an arm around Steve’s back, pulling them impossibly closer. One of Steve’s hands came up to cradle Tony’s jaw, fingers running against his goatee, and Tony let out a soft groan. For a moment Steve let himself get lost in it; the soft slide of Tony's mouth underneath his, the gentle press of tongue at his lips, parting into something hotter, wetter. Steve sighed with content, Tony taking advantage of the access to explore Steve's mouth. Tony was a little demanding, but not aggressive, and something about the way he kissed was driving Steve wild. It was only when Steve felt a full-body shiver run up his spine that he came back to himself.

He pulled away reluctantly, Tony trying to chase after him and pepper him with more kisses. Steve laughed, and felt Tony’s answering smile against his mouth. 

“Where do you think you’re going,” Tony said, breath ghosting across Steve’s face. 

“We _are_ still in public,” Steve pointed out. “And if I kiss you any longer I am going to start doing unspeakably indecent things to you.” 

Tony’s eyes went dark as he let out a soft, “oh”. 

“That doesn’t sound so bad to me,” he said. 

“Maybe not, but there are things I want to do to you that just aren’t as good on a concrete sidewalk,” Steve grinned. 

Tony leaned back, appraising him, and then immediately began tugging Steve back towards where the bike was parked. 

“Back to the tower, now. Immediately, please.” 

Steve laughed again, letting himself be pulled. Tony seemed to bring that out in him, the endless laughter. The endless feeling of joy. 

“You know,” Steve said as they got back on the bike, Tony plastering his whole body against Steve’s. “I actually tried to get Jarvis’s help in asking you out.” 

“Seriously?” Tony asked, and Steve didn’t need to see his face to know Tony was smirking. 

“Listen, it was the best I could come up with! I was nervous. I wanted to get it right.” 

Tony tugged at Steve so that they were facing one another, Tony’s eyes soft and half-lidded. He pressed another kiss to Steve’s lips, soft and chaste. 

“Well, I think it worked out perfectly.”


End file.
